


The Malfoy Dilemma

by rinfics



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: DM/HG, HP/RW, Harry Potter - Freeform, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-04
Updated: 2009-12-04
Packaged: 2017-10-04 04:16:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinfics/pseuds/rinfics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione gets a little bit paranoid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Malfoy Dilemma

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the dmhgficexchange "Hot Summer Nights with Draco and Hermione" (2006), as Rin.

Hermione Granger ran all the way from her flat on the second floor to her best friends' flat on the sixth. She didn't think to take the elevator—the news she had to share was too important to be wasted on waiting.

She burst into the flat Harry and Ron shared, dropped her bag, and exclaimed,

"There is something wrong with Draco Malfoy!"

Her two best friends, Harry the-boy-who-lived Potter, and Ron the-boy-who-lived-to-be-the-boy who-lived's-sidekick-and-lover, were currently engaged in playing a game of Twister and ignored her.

She stomped her foot twice.

"Did anybody hear me? I said there's something wrong with Malfoy."

Harry spoke up. "Ron, elbow to red."

Ron grunted with the effort of transferring his elbow from the blue dot to the red dot, located underneath Harry's nether regions.

"Why did some stupid muggle invent this game, anyway?" Ron said, "It's a stupid waste of time."

"But we're having fun, Ron!" Harry protested.

"Fun my arse." Ron replied.

"No, fun my arse." Harry replied, looking at Ron and licking his lips.

Hermione grew impatient. "Would you please stop flirting and listen to me?!"

Both boys turned their heads to look at her. Harry was bent over backwards, his knee on a green dot, his foot on a blue dot, one hand on a red dot. Ron was bent over forward, his elbow on a red dot underneath Harry's arse, his hand on the yellow dot beside Harry's knee, his foot on a green dot and his other foot on a blue dot. Needless to say, the scenario in front of her looked very…wrong.

Hermione turned around to face the door. "I'll give you a minute to get decent."

The sound of clothes rustling could be heard behind her.

"Are you decent now?"

"Decent enough." Harry replied.

"We weren't really doing anything, you know." Ron chastised.

"Well, lucky for me then. I prevented you from doing something that would most likely embarrass the three of us." Hermione retorted.

"I wouldn't get embarrassed." Harry said.

"Neither would I." Ron added.

Hermione spun around towards them. "Well, I would!"

Harry turned to Ron. "If we had done it earlier, do you think we could've avoided this melodramatic emotional upheaval?"

Ron brushed away Harry's messy hair. "Maybe."

"Do you think if we start doing it now, she'd leave?"

Ron stepped closer to Harry. "Maybe."

Hermione covered her eyes. "Stop! Stop! What kind of best friends are you?"

Harry sighed and sunk into the couch, Ron following. "We'd be the gay, in-love-with-each-other kind of best friends."

"So what's up with you and Malfoy?" Ron asked, patting the space on the couch beside him.

Hermione ignored the offer and began to pace in front of the fireplace.

"There's something wrong with him!"

"Well, we've been telling you that for the longest time, but you wouldn't listen." Ron said, draping his arm around Harry's shoulders.

"Yeah." Harry agreed, "What's with the sudden change of heart?"

"He hasn't been paying attention to me!" Hermione said, tugging on her unruly hair.

Ron crossed his legs and settled into the couch. "Well, maybe he's just busy with work."

Hermione stopped pacing and sat of the chair. "He wouldn't be cooped up in there until nine in the evening! He's always complaining about how little time we get to spend together, and how much he wishes that his work hours were shorter!"

"Hmm..." Harry gnawed on his lower lip. "Maybe he's just abstaining."

Hermione stared at him blankly.

"You know," Harry shrugged, "Abstaining from seeing you so that he can...perform better."

"Perform?" Hermione questioned.

Harry shrugged again, and then exchanged a meaningful look with Ron.

Hermione colored as the meaning sunk in. "Oh. That perform. But he doesn't need to—I mean, he performs very well…except for that time—not that I'm counting…"

Harry and Ron each sported knowing looks.

Hermione shook her head. "You don't get it—he hasn't been paying attention to me, but not in that way. I mean, we always do it when he gets home—" she stopped and buried her head in her hands. "I'm embarrassing myself, aren't I?"

Both men nodded, smiling gleefully. It was rare for Hermione to embarrass herself with the personal aspects of her life. As her best friends, they were enjoying it immensely.

She took a deep breath. "He hasn't been, you know, a hundred percent with me outside of the bedroom. He's always busy, and when we're talking, it seems like his mind's elsewhere."

"Hermione," Harry said, patting her knee, "Maybe he's just having one of those days. You shouldn't worry so much about it."

"Yeah," Ron chimed in. "It's not just you females who are prone to having mood swings. Even we men do, sometimes."

"Really?" Hermione looked as if she didn't believe it.

Harry nodded. "We do. We just don't go all hysterical about it."

"It's not good for our image." Ron added.

"Well...he did mention that he was having a hard time with his project..." Hermione said, folding her hands in her lap.

"See? In all your hysteria, you forgot all about his problems." Ron said, his hands toying with the ends of Harry's hair.

"Give it time, Hermione." Harry smiled encouragingly. "You've been together for three years.  
Surely you guys can weather a little thing like this."

"Thanks guys." Hermione smiled. "You made me feel better."

"Of course," Ron smiled back at her, "What are best friends for?"

~

 

Hermione smiled and hummed a little tune as she prepared their dinner. Harry and Ron were right. They had been together for three years. Three wonderful years. Surely they could weather through this little bump in their relationship.

They had started "going out"—Ginny's term—in the middle of the war. Truth be told, it was more of a "going in" than a "going out". It had started on a stormy summer night, when he entered her tent seeking shelter from the rain. Of course, he didn't know it was her tent. He would've avoided it at all costs if he had known. But he didn't, and was as surprised as she when he entered, dripping and wet. She knew that he had become a spy of the Order after the former Potions Master was nearly killed in a skirmish with a group of Death Eaters, but she had not really seen much of him. The War had scattered them apart—it was rare for her to see anyone she knew from Hogwarts.

In the lamplight, he looked like a drowned rat. And it was probably a good thing too. If he had entered looking all neat and tidy, she might have been tempted to push him outside just for spite. But he was cold, wet, and most probably hungry, so she dried him, took him in, and then fed him. It was the nature of a mediwitch never to turn down anyone in need.

After that, it became a habit for him to stop by in her tent whenever he passed by the camp. He, with his sarcasm and wit, had been a welcome distraction to an otherwise bloody and cruel war-life. His visits became more and more frequent, and they progressed from being thorns on each other's sides to being friends.

They might have remained just friends if not for one incident that happened near the final battle of the War. She was resting inside her tent, exhausted after a long day of healing the wounded. Draco had entered her tent, snide remarks in tow. They had developed a sort-of routine when he came to visit: he would insult her, then she would insult him back, then they would laugh it off and talk good-naturedly. The fact that they could shrug those hurtful comments off their backs was a testament to how far their friendship had progressed.

But she was tired and had no energy to engage him in a verbal sparring session. He had noticed this fact and was immediately concerned, kneeling beside her and placing a hand on her forehead to check her temperature. As she looked up at his face, she was suddenly struck by the realization that Draco had become more to her than just a mere friend. He was a constant in her life—someone whom she could not bear to lose.

He met her gaze, and the hand that felt for her temperature moved to caress her cheek. His eyes were lit by a low smoldering fire which she could have sworn was not there moments before. His lips met hers in a hesitant kiss, which slowly deepened as their desires grew. On that night, she had become a woman.

She mixed the cooked ground beef with the spaghetti sauce and poured it over a sheet of noodle that was placed on top of a baking pan. She repeated this process three times: place layer, then pour. After filling the pan nearly to the brim, she placed it inside the oven and moved to the kitchen to set the table.

They had rented this apartment about a year ago, because it was only blocks away from the Ministry, where Draco worked as a curse breaker. It was hard work that paid decent money, and Draco seemed to enjoy the job. She had taken a job at a nearby café as a bartender/conversationalist. The owner of the café hired her because she had a lot of knowledge, and he needed a bartender who could keep the seniors who frequented the bar amused.

It wasn't her dream job, but she liked it. The seniors she talked to were wise people who had seen a lot of the world and didn't mind a young person who knew a lot to come and argue political theories with them.

And besides, it kept her occupied whenever Draco was at work.

When the timer rang, she returned to the kitchen to retrieve the pan of lasagna and placed it on the table. Then she placed a bottle of wine in a bucket full of ice and settled down to wait for Draco to arrive. He should be home in about ten minutes.

Two hours and half a bottle of wine later, the sound of charms disengaging could be heard from the front door of the apartment.

"Hermione?" Draco called out. "I'm home."

Hermione sat on the chair, her head laid down on the table, pretending to sleep. How dare he just waltz in here? He was two hours late! And he didn't even send a note!

"Hermione?" The sound of footsteps was nearing the kitchen. "I'm sorry I'm late."

"A fat lot of good that does." She muttered to herself. She wouldn't go to him and welcome him home. He could bloody well do that for himself.

"Hermione..." Draco stopped at the kitchen door and saw her. "Oh. She's asleep."

Asleep, my arse, she thought to herself. Why the hell are you late?!

She felt movement beside her and was surprised when she was lifted off the chair. After a brief travel, she felt herself being lowered to their bed. Draco tucked her in, smoothing back her hair and placing a kiss on her forehead.

Well.

Maybe she could forgive him for coming home so late after all.

She snuggled further into the bed and fell asleep with a smile on her face.

~

 

Two days later, she was back at Harry and Ron's apartment.

"Let me guess," Harry said as he brought out two cups of tea, "Something's wrong with Malfoy again, right?"

Hermione stared at Harry incredulously. "How did you know?"

"Well, you don't go around into people's apartments with out calling first unless you have a good reason." Harry handed one cup to Hermione. "Or, in this case, a Malfoy dilemma."

Hermione accepted the cup and took a sip.

"So what did he do?"

Hermione put the cup down on the sofa table and folded her hands on her lap. "I think he's having an affair."

Harry sipped his tea meditatively. "Well, he does have a Y chromosome."

Hermione glared at him. "What does that have to do with anything? Are you saying women can't or don't have affairs too?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I only meant that he's—" Harry broke off, seeing his friend's arched eyebrow.  
"Nevermind. Why do you think he's having an affair?"

"Well," Hermione began in a serious tone, "I was folding his laundry—"

"You fold his laundry?" Harry interrupted.

"Can you please not interrupt me while I'm discussing my situation?" Hermione crossed her arms in front of her.

"Sorry." Harry said sheepishly.

"Okay. So I was folding his laundry, and I sniffed his shirt, and I noticed that he had a lipstick stain on his collar—and it wasn't my lipstick!" Hermione screeched.

Harry winced. Draco was sure to be a dead man after this, if he didn't do anything.

Hermione took several deep breaths before continuing. "Sorry, Harry. I was screeching again, wasn't I?"

"Well, it wasn't your normal volume..." He replied.

"Where was I? Oh, the lipstick. It wasn't mine! So naturally, I got suspicious, and I checked his other shirts. They smelled like another woman's perfume! It wasn't his, it wasn't mine—it must've been one of those flirts from the Ministry!" Hermione's voice was rising again.

Harry thrust the cup of tea into her hands and forced her to drink. "Okay, Hermione, drink the tea. Tea is good for lowering your blood pressure and calming your nerves. Chamomile is for soothing. Now drink up."

Hermione drank the rest of the tea in one big gulp, and then abruptly placed it back down on the table.

Harry winced as a crack formed on the cup. They were Ron's favorite set, and now one was broken. Ron was going to kill him when he gets home.

"Are you sure it wasn't your lipstick?" Harry moved the cup away from Hermione's reach, fearing that she might throw it into a wall the next time she got her hands on it. "I mean, do you have any proof?"

"No, I'm sure it wasn't mine! I don't wear that shade of red!"

"Well..." Harry was running out of words to say. Luckily for him, Ron came home at that exact time. "Oh look, Ron's here!"

Ron walked into the living room, dropping his bag on the floor. "Hey Hermione, Hello Harry." He said, walking towards them. "Hey—waitaminute! Is that my rosebud teacup? Why is it broken?!"

"Ehrm...well..." Harry stammered.

"Harry!" Ron's voice was tuning shrilly. "Why is my favorite teacup broken?!"

Sensing an argument was about to ensue (one which she definitely didn't want to be part of), Hermione took the opportunity and slipped out of the door unnoticed.

~

 

Hermione walked down the street, in what she hoped was an inconspicuous manner. She peeked above the newspaper she was reading, and was satisfied to see that her target was still in her line of vision.

After talking with Harry, she had decided to approach her problem with Draco in a methodical manner. To prove a point, one must have strong evidence to back it up. Without proof, the point would just be a weak argument.

So there she was, on a bright sunny day, walking down the street following her lover.

She peeked over her newspaper again to find that Draco was walking briskly away from her. At that rate, she would lose him in the crowds. She discarded her newspaper, accidentally bumping into a man and knocking over his coffee. Normally, she would've stopped and said sorry at his protest. But Draco was getting away, and she had no time to spare. So she ran off, the man's protests fading behind her.

She stopped and caught her breath at the third stoplight. Draco was nowhere in sight. She leaned against a shop's window in despair. How could she have lost him? She saw him in front of her, just a few seconds ago! Now all the running and spying was wasted. She didn't get to find out anything, and she was probably going to pig out on chocolate chip ice cream later in despair.

She turned around to look inside the shop. It was frilly, and pink, and frilly. And it was full of saleswomen only in their underwear.

Well, she thought, that's a cool concept. It would certainly draw more men in.

She stepped back from the window and read the sign posted above the door. Lady's Boutique: fulfilling your lingerie needs since 1658. A lingerie shop? She peered inside the window once again and caught a flash of silver-blond hair.

That can't be...she thought.

The bell in front of the door tinkled, and out stepped Draco Malfoy. Hermione hurriedly dropped to the sidewalk, covered her face with her hair, and held out a hand, pretending to be a beggar. She cast a quick glamour spell on herself, making her look as if she hadn't taken a bath in weeks.

She saw a pair of shiny leather shoes stop in front of her and gulped. Did he make her out? Had he seen her while she was peering inside the shop? If he did, she was going to be humiliated beyond belief. She felt two coins dropped onto her palms.

"Here, go eat." Draco said, walking away.

Hermione could not say anything. Her heart was racing, and she forced it to calm down. She couldn't afford to hyperventilate out here.

Standing, she dusted off the seat of her pants and looked at her palm. Two gold discs greeted her sight. Galleons? He gave away galleons?!

She looked up at his retreating form and Apparated herself to Harry and Ron's apartment.

~

 

Harry and Ron were enjoying feeding each other ice cream. After their brief argument a while ago, and a good bout of splashing in the bathtub, they were as sweet to each other as they normally were.  
But not all good, peaceful things last.

"Harry!" Hermione had Apparated into their living room with a faint pop. "I have proof!"

Ron let out a silent groan. "Couldn't we just kick her out?" He whispered into Harry's ear.

Harry looked pointedly at him. "She's our best friend. We can't bail out on her now!"

"But she's cutting into our 'alone' time!" Ron put down the spoon and recapped the container of ice cream.

"I know. But I'll make it up to you, I promise." Harry went out to the living room.

Ron pouted. "You'd better."

~

 

"Harry! There you are!" Hermione said as Harry came out of the kitchen. "I have proof! He's cheating on me!"

"Hey Hermione." Harry sat down on the couch and patted the seat next to him. "What happened?"

Hermione sat down and grinned. "He's cheating on me!"

Ron entered and sat on the chair opposite them. "Why are you so happy then?"

"Because now I have proof!" Hermione clapped her hands. "After Harry and I talked a while ago, I followed him."

"You stalked him?" Harry said, eyes wide.

"No," Hermione replied crossly. "Stalking is wrong. I was merely following him."

"Okay..." Ron could never figure out Hermione's logic, and figured it was probably better that way. "So what did you find out?"

"He went inside a lingerie shop full of women in underwear!"

Harry and Ron fell silent, absorbing this piece of information. Both of them came to the conclusion that Draco was a very dead and very lucky guy, and that they should get the address of that shop from him. For future purposes.

"Well, have you got nothing to say?" Hermione crossed her legs and leaned forward.

"What do you want us to say?" Ron asked.

"Nothing, really. But hear me out." She linked her fingers together. "I think he's been cheating on me  
not with one of those Ministry flirts, but with one of those saleswomen at the shop!"

"How'd you figure that one out?" Harry asked, biting back the giggles. Hermione was being downright silly now, but he didn't want to hurt her feelings—or force her to hex him senseless.

"You see," Hermione said, with a serious _expression on her face. "I pretended to be a beggar outside the shop—and then he gave me two galleons! He doesn't do that unless he's really happy about something. And he doesn't have any reason to go to a lingerie shop, unless he's buying lingerie for someone else, or he's seeing one of the saleswomen!"

Ron leaned back on the chair. He could see Harry biting back the giggles and felt tempted to giggle himself. "Maybe he's just gay."

Hermione stared at him. "Excuse me?"

"Come on, Hermione. He hasn't been paying attention to you," Ron said, ticking off his fingers, "There's lipstick on his collar, his clothes smell like women's perfume, and he goes inside a lingerie store.  
Maybe he just decided females weren't his thing anymore. In which case, Harry and I would most gladly welcome him here."

"He can't be gay." Hermione said, her eyes filling with tears.

"Oh crap. Ron, you made her cry." Harry said, throwing an arm around Hermione to console her.

"Didn't mean to, but I'll get the tissue anyway." Ron rose and went to the kitchen counter.

"Hermione, c'mon love, don't cry." Harry said in a soothing voice.

"But." She said, in between gulps of air, "He. Might. Be. Gay!"

"Being gay isn't bad..." Harry said, as Ron returned with the tissue paper.

"If you want to find out, why don't you just ask him?" Ron said, sitting back down on the chair.

"Are. You. Daft?" Hermione sniffled out. "I don't. Want him. To think. That I'm. An overzealous. Hysterical. Psychotic. Possesive. Stalker. Kind of. Person!"

Harry raised an eyebrow at Ron. Ron raised an eyebrow of his own back. Their friend was humiliating herself again. Or at least dispensing gallons of irony.

"Calm down, Hermione." Ron said, standing up from the chair and sitting opposite her. "I was just joking..."

Hermione wiped her eyes and hiccupped. "Not. Funny."

"Come on, Hermione." Harry rubbed her shoulders. "He's not gay. Ron and I have tried to come on to him many times, but he never responded."

"So does that mean—" Hermione paused as Harry's words sunk in. "You and Ron did what?!"

Harry continued rubbing her shoulders, murmuring words that were meant for comfort, misinterpreting Hermione's tensed shoulders as a by-product of her crying. "…we tried to jump him at the same time, but he wouldn't let us."

"So he can't be gay." Ron jumped in.

Hemione pushed away Harry's offending hand and stood up, hands on her hips. "How could you?" she asked, her voice turning shrilly.

Harry and Ron looked at her blankly. "How could we what?" they replied in unison.

"Try to steal Draco away from me!" She stomped to the fireplace and then turned around to face them. "How could you? You were my best friends!"

"We didn't do anything wrong!" Harry cried out.

"Yeah!" Rom chimed, linking hands with Harry. "We can't help it if his pheromones are overwhelmingly overwhelming!"

"And if his shoulders beg caressing!" Harry added, leaning closer to Ron.

"Or is his tight little tush invites pinching!" Ron held Harry's other hand in his.

"Well, it really does invite pinching," Hermione began, her mind's eye recreating the image of Draco walking towards the bathroom, but abruptly stopped as she recalled what had just happened. "But that isn't the point! You were trying to steal him from me and include him in one of your ice cream orgies, you...you...brazen hussies!" Hermione spun around and exited their apartment, slamming their door as she left.

Ron faced Harry and grinned. "Well, that was an ingenious bit of tale-telling there, my dear."

"Well," Harry grinned back. "It was simple to pretend that we did try to jump Malfoy. Goodness knows how long I've wanted to pinch his 'tush', as you quite put it."

"Like I said, very ingenious." Ron nipped Harry's nose. "But how did she find out about our ice cream orgies?"

~

 

Hermione stomped down the stairs to the second floor. She didn't think to take the elevator—the news she had just received was too important to be shoved into the back of her head during the short trip down.

Her best friends! They were trying to steal Draco away from her! How could they! She trusted them with everything, and now she found out that all that trust had been misplaced.

How could they?!

Their conversations during the past few days came back to her.

"There's something wrong with him!"

"Well, we've been telling you that for the longest time, but you wouldn't listen."

Harry gnawed on his lower lip.

Both men nodded, smiling gleefully.

"Well, he does have a Y chromosome."

"Maybe he's just gay."

"Maybe he just decided females weren't his thing anymore. In which case, Harry and I would most gladly welcome him here."

Both men nodded, smiling gleefully.

"There's something wrong with him!"

Harry gnawed on his lower lip.

"Maybe he's just gay."

Had they been giving her warnings? Was Draco really gay? Maybe he couldn't tell her?

Hermione rushed down the last flight of stairs. It was going to be okay. She'd talk to him, and they'd figure it out. If he really had changed his gender preference, then she would let him go. At least he wasn't cheating on her. Right?

She stopped at the corner when she heard two voices from the corridor where their apartment was. One of them was familiar—Draco's! She leaned against the wall to better listen to their conversation.

"Yes, I'll see you then." Draco said. She imagined that he was smiling.

"I'll be waiting for you, Malfoy. You've made a wonderful choice." The other voice was decidedly feminine. The woman was probably named Prissy and had blonde hair and outrageous amounts of blush. She set her mouth on a thin line. Scratch the gay theory. Draco was definitely cheating on her! With a woman named Prissy, nonetheless!

"Of course. I have excellent taste, you know." Draco was probably leaning into Prissy, trying to steal a kiss. How could he!

"Oh I know, Malfoy." Prissy was flirting with him! That...unscrupulous woman! "I know very well."

"See you then." In her mind's eye, Draco kissed Prissy's hand before sending her off.

"Okay." Prissy would flutter her fingers and walk away in a model-like fashion.

Suddenly, she found she couldn't take it anymore. This was just too much abuse! She could've taken it if he was gay, but he was cheating on her! And he cheated on her with a woman who had a name like Prissy! That ranked at the top of the 'Things Never To Do To Hermione Unless You Wished Certain Death' list.

Fuming, she stepped away from the wall and towards their apartment. She opened the door, went inside, and was a bit satisfied when the door closed with a loud bang.

"Hermione?" Draco called, stepping outside the bathroom. "Are you home—"

Draco was cut off by the contact of Hermione's palm against his cheek. His head snapped sideways, and a scowl replaced the welcoming smile that was there seconds ago. "What the hell was that for?"

"That," Hermione said, punctuating her words with sharp jabs of her finger into his chest, "Was. For. Cheating. On. Me! With someone like Prissy, nonetheless!

Draco grabbed the offending hand and the other one when she tried to punch him. "Cheating on you? Prissy? Who?"

"Don't lie to me!" Hermione struggled to get away from his grasp. "I heard you! You were making a date with her!"

"I was," Draco grunted as her foot came into contact with his shin, "making an appointment with her."

"You were not! She probably works in that lingerie shop you went to!" Hermione aimed for his groin but missed. "You saw her in her underwear!"

"What?" Draco was busy avoiding Hermione's feet. "She works in a jewelry store!"

"That's not true!" Hermione screamed, and landed a kick on his hipbone. "You had a lipstick stain on your shirt! And it smelled like someone else's perfume!"

"What?!" Draco hoisted the still kicking and screaming Hermione up his shoulder and proceeded to the living room.

"You keep on coming home late! You don't pay attention to me anymore! You're always distracted! You forgot to water our anniversary plant! You gave away two galleons! You join in Harry and Ron's ice cream orgies!" Hermione ranted on, pounding her fists on Draco's back. "You want to break up with me! And you're gay!"

Hermione took a deep breath. "Put me down!"

Draco unceremoniously dumped her onto their couch. She crossed her arms over her chest and pouted. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see Draco seated on the couch opposite her. His shoulders were tense, and his lips were set in a straight line. Not a good sign. But if he was going to break up with her, he might as well do so already. She couldn't stand the suspense.

"That woman," He began, but was interrupted by Hermione.

"See! You're cheating on me!" She whined. She wasn't a whiner, and she hated whining, but now it seemed like that was all she could do.

Draco drew out his wand and hit her with a silencing spell.

"There," he said, as Hermione clawed at her mouth, "that's better. That woman's name is not Prissy. She's Sheila Van Carrington, an old family friend who runs a jewelry store."

Hermione had stopped clawing at her mouth and resumed pouting. So what if she wasn't a Prissy? He was exchanging her for an old family friend named Sheila, who probably dressed her poodles in diamonds, or something.

"I was making an appointment with her because I had to take care of something important."

Hermione rolled her eyes. He could explain all he wanted, but it still wouldn't make a difference.

"Her family was murdered during the war, and I'm the only family friend she knows who is still alive."

Hermione felt tiny pinpricks of sympathy and self-doubt. What if he was just in touch with her because she needed a friend? Was she putting more meaning into their meeting than she should have?

"I'm sorry if I haven't been paying much attention to you, and I'm sorry if I come home late from work. I will be getting a promotion by the end of this month, so I need to work harder."

Now Hermione was doused with liberal amounts of guilt. He was working hard so that they could live comfortably, and here she was, acting all jealous-like.

"You told me not to water the anniversary plant after I nearly drowned it the last time. And the lipstick stain was from when you surprised me last week. You were going on and on about how it wouldn't smudge from your lips no matter what we did, remember?"

She felt her face heat up as she recalled the memory. So she forgot…and overreacted.

"I do not join in Potter and Weasley's orgies, nor do I want to. They were the ones who gave me that perfume, reassuring me that you would love it. And I am most definitely not gay." Draco frowned at her. "And besides, even if I did prefer the same gender, I would pick a more good-looking lot than them.

About the galleons, I knew you were following me that day, so I went inside the shop to throw you off. When I came outside and saw you huddled at the sidewalk, I gave you money to feed yourself because you've been following me for about an hour and I knew you hadn't eaten yet."

Draco removed the silencing spell. "Now have you got anything to say for yourself?"

Hermione shrank under his stare. She was, admittedly, wholly in the wrong. And she wasn't happy about it. She shook her head.

"Merlin," Draco ran a hand through his hair. "How'd I end up falling for an overzealous, hysterical, psychotic, possessive, stalker kind of woman?"

"I don't know." Hermione said in a small voice. "Maybe you should break up with me."

Draco let out a short bark of laughter. "Are you kidding me? What would I do with the ring then?"

Hermione looked at him quizzically. "What ring?"

"The ring I just bought from Sheila? I was just going to ask you to marry me when you barged in screaming."

"You—what?" Hermione gaped at Draco as he smirked and walked towards the kitchen.

"I have wine ready, if you want to do this the traditional way." He opened the light in the kitchen.

Hermione felt embarrassment overwhelm her as she buried her head in her hands. All this time, he was just planning to marry her. And she had mistaken it for something else. She groaned as a new thought entered her head. When they got married, she was never ever going to live this down.

"Hermione! The wine's getting warm!" Draco called out from the kitchen.

"Fine, fine! Keep your pants on! I'm coming!" Hermione replied, her face flushed from embarrassment, as she walked towards the kitchen.

~

 

Meanwhile, four floors above them...

Ron detached his ear away from the Extendable Ear Version 2.0 that the twins loaned him. "Harry, they're done arguing!"

Harry came out from the kitchen bearing two cups of tea. "Has he asked her to marry him yet?"

"No, but they're getting to it." Ron said, taking a cup from Harry. "They're kinda slow, if you know what I mean."

"Oh well, we have all night." Harry settled himself more comfortably next to Ron on the couch and sipped his tea. "Hand me the other Ear, would you?"

THE END


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